


You Keep Pulling Me In

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [7]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: “I…” he wearily said, bunching the sheets into his fist, “I don’t know what you want me to say but I’m…” a helpless smile made its way on his lips as he looked up at Takahiro’s hopeful face—ah, how he never wants to hurt him the way those people, the way his family had hurt him—,“Homo-janai. Homo-janai…”“Oh,” Taka exhaled,“Oh…”
Relationships: Morita Takahiro/Yamashita Toru, Moriuchi Takahiro/Yamashita Toru
Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1070292
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	You Keep Pulling Me In

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here I am with an amnesia fic that nobody asked for gahahahaha it just suddenly came to me when I was procrastinating with Born from The Ashes--that shit is so hard to write btw.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is a work of fiction. Please don't sue me.

It has happened once, so Taka _was so sure_ that it won’t happen ever again. They should’ve learned, the support team should’ve learned but _no_ —it’s probably the universe _constantly_ trying to fuck up his life, because, yes— _it happened again._

Toru fell.

And oh, no matter how much Taka likes to say that, _our Toru-san tragically fell in love with me all over again_ , he can’t. He just _can’t_.

Not when his _beloved_ is lying on a hospital bed—dozens of tubes and cables (he might or might not be exaggerating at this point, who knows) hooked up into him, a pure white bandage wrapped around his head—sleeping for almost a week already.

 _Comatose_ —the doctors said that his Toru-san is in coma—but Taka’s mind refused to believe that. They were just playing in an arena, they were just performing the last song of the encore, and they were just grinning at each other— amidst the loud sounds, under the flickering multitude of stage lights. They were just having fun—so there’s no way that Toru-san is in coma.

 _That just can’t be_.

Toru-san had already fallen before. Back in 2017, when the team had accidentally left a part of the stage open. Who leaves a two-meter deep hole open like that anyways? Toru-san fell and yet he made it with just a few scratches and gashes—he even played his guitar for a moment down there—so Taka can’t believe that the same accident would render his guitarist like… like this.

* * *

“But this is not the same, Taka-chan,” Tomoya had patiently explained to him on the third day—three days without those Gachapin eyes glaring at the three of them—three days had already passed and Taka is still having difficulty in processing the medical jargons the doctors were spouting since day 1.

“It’s still the same 2-meter hole—,”

“—he actually hit his _head_ this time, Taka-chan!” the drummer hissed in frustration. Tomoya’s mad? That’s not good— _why is he mad?_ Taka can’t understand, couldn’t comprehend anymore so he just looked up at the oldest, his face filled with desperation, helplessness and confusion, making Tomoya sputter for a moment—, “it—it gave him a nasty bleeding okay?” he explained, his voice mellowing as he take Taka’s confused, lost puppy look, “he’s gonna be fine, as soon as he wakes up, okay?”

Taka slowly nodded. When Toru-san wakes up…but…how long would he sleep?

Days? A few more weeks? _Months_?

Can Taka wait that long without breaking inside? Without blaming himself—even if he’s totally blameless in this thing? But what can he do? His lover is half-dead and seeing him like that makes Taka think—what if they didn’t performed in that venue? What if they didn’t have the tour, nor launched the album—what if they didn’t form the band?

_Will Toru be spared?_

Taka’s lips trembled at that horrible, horrible thought. Toru’s wellbeing at the expense of their band’s existence—how could he ever choose between them? Taka couldn’t remember much of that day as well, except for Tomoya’s warm, tight hug around him.

* * *

Ryota came as often as he can. He’s his precious Toru-nii after all. They would chat for a moment, Ryota asking him if he had eaten already or if he had taken a break in the last seven days. Taka would nod; lie through his teeth and pray to the myriads of gods that the youngest won’t notice that he’s still wearing the same clothes he’s wearing yesterday.

Maybe Ryota had noticed but he just never mentioned it, as a consideration for Taka’s fragile mindset. He always brings food, cooked by his wife and they would share it between them—or with Tomo, if the drummer arrives before the bassist leaves. The food looks awesome, but tastes like cotton on Taka’s tongue—still he eats, because he knows that Ryota and Tomoya would throw a fuss—and because he knows that Toru-san would smack him at the back of his head if he discovers that Taka has been neglecting himself while watching over his unconscious form.

“Doctor said that Toru-nii’s vitals are already stable,” Ryota said while he’s packing the bento boxes that Taka had washed a few moments ago, “He just have to wake up and we’ll all be good.”

Everyone’s saying that—he’ll be fine; we’ll be fine once he wakes up, but when— _when would he wake up?_

Taka glanced at the sleeping form of the guitarist, his eyes keenly watching the even rise and fall of the chest he had been using as a pillow on many occasions in the past. _Ah_ , how he missed snuggling beside the younger man, his head pillowed on the toned chest, fingers drumming a familiar rhythm while the guitarist’s arm is wounded around his waist in a possessive manner.

“You can go home for a few hours if you want, Mori-chan,” Ryota is still saying in the background, fiddling with the cloth wrapped around the boxes, “I can take over for a night or two so you can take a full night of sleep…Toru-nii won’t like it if you’re not sleeping right, you know?”

Taka knows.

But how can he say that he’s scared of going back—scared of finding his own unit so small, so cold, so quiet and so _empty_ without the perpetual presence of his lover in there?

“Thanks,” he put up a shaky smile—his dried, parched lips stretching in a small yet painful smile—, “But I have to be here all the time, in case he wakes up…I want to be here…”

_I want to be the one he first sees when he opened those eyes._

* * *

Days passed and Tomoya and Ryota already knows that urging Taka to go home will not yield anything. So they would just borrow Taka’s keys, gather some of his clothes, and bring it to the hospital along with some food. Taka is thankful, he had mumbled that for a hundred times already, but the two won’t still stop hovering over him. They would be there, especially when the doctor would check up on the sleeping guitarist and say the same thing— _“he’s doing good, he’ll be fine as soon as he wakes up,”—_ over and over again.

 _How long_ , Taka wants to ask, _how long would they have to wait?_

It feels like an _eternity_ already, and every hour that passed feels like a part of Taka is dying. Screw the tour, screw the band—he just wants his Toru-san back. Whole and alive and healthy—Taka would cease all their shows and activities in the future if the guitarist would just wake up.

People would understand—they would understand _, right?_

How _painful_ it is, to gain something so precious only to lose it in a blink of an eye?

How _painful_ it is, to hope, day by day, clinging on the words of a white-clad human?

How _painful_ it is, to pretend that he’s strong, that he believes whatever shit everyone is spouting, that everything would be alright when he knows, deep inside, that they won’t come out of this unscathed?

* * *

On the fifth day, Toru’s family came over. They were crying of course, but unlike Taka who wants to blame someone else— _his self, maybe_ —for the unfortunate fate of the guitarist, they just wiped their tears and thanked everyone for taking care of their Toru.

He blinked, as Toru’s mom enveloped him in a warm hug, cradling the back of his neck as she uttered his thanks because Taka had patiently stayed, because Taka is the best band mate her Toru could ever asked for, because Taka had proven once more how he’s the best in terms of taking care of her Toru.

And Taka—

He felt his throat constricting at that, the bitter taste of helplessness rising up to his mouth. _Why are you being so grateful, when I couldn’t even protect your son? Why are you being thankful when all I did was to sit here, watching and wasting away as hours ticked by?_

 _I’m not that great, I’m not the best—_ not for the band, not for Toru-san who deserves so much.

But he couldn’t say that to her face, could he? So he just returned the hug, trying so hard to prevent the glob of tears from falling.

He was unsuccessful.

But no one said a word, and he’s thankful for that.

* * *

They shared a dinner after that. Toru’s family and the band members eating and chatting as if Toru is not sleeping away just a few feet away from them. The food no longer tastes like cotton in Taka’s mouth, he’s starving and he can’t really just waste the food that Toru’s mom dutifully prepared.

They all left afterwards, leaving Takahiro alone in that silent room. He sighed, sitting on the chair at the side of the bed and touched the guitarist’s hand, feeling light and hopeful once again.

_Wake up soon, Toru-san._

_I’ll be here._

_I’ll always be here._

* * *

Toru-san woke up on the eight day.

It was _anticlimactic_ —the three of them were just playing cards, killing time until lunch, when the machine suddenly beeped loudly. Everyone panicked for a moment, not really knowing what to do, well, until Toru’s eyes slowly—painfully slow—opened.

Taka couldn’t remember much after that. Maybe he needs to drink memory-enhancing supplements because it’s clear as day that his age is finally catching up to him, but later. That can wait.

He can here Tomoya shouting for doctors, Ryota flailing wordlessly beside him and Taka—Taka just stood there, watching as Toru’s eyes focused before glazing over and then he was asleep once again.

Just like that.

He couldn’t even talk to him, tell him how much he missed and loves him—it was so _fast_.

The doctors said that it’s perfectly fine; no one just wakes up from coma like how would wake up in the morning. They’ll be tired and thirsty but everything’s gonna be well from now, they just have to stay and wait for him to wake up again.

Taka could do that. He’d done it for eight days already, after all.

* * *

Toru looks so much better on the ninth day, his pale complexion is back on tis healthy hue, his body is warm all over once again—or maybe it was just Taka’s hopeful hallucinations. The doctors prodded on his eyes and reflexes when he woke up that day. Toru-san slept right away when the examinations were done. Taka didn’t mind it at all.

He can wait.

He _will_ wait.

* * *

On the tenth day, Toru-san could finally speak. Every one of them gathered around the bed, sans Toru’s family—they’re still on their way to the hospital. They watched as the guitarist gulped a glassful of water, eager for news, eager for words. Ryota is practically bouncing at his spot, like a hyperactive kid high on sugar while Tomoya remains calm. Takahiro, on the other hand, is trying to calm his raging heart, trying to think of the proper words (that hopefully lacks _“fuck” “shit” or “idiot”)_ to say, trying to think if he should just forego everything and hug Toru because, lord, how he had missed this idiot shit.

Toru shakily put the glass on his lap, which Tomoya dutifully took, before looking up at them, the smile—

“What’s up…”

—that adorns his stupidly handsome face instantly vanishing as the heavily-lidded eyes gazed at each of them—

“… _guys_ …?!! What—what _happened_?!” he asked, his voice breaking a little in shock or confusion, Taka doesn’t know. What he’s sure of is this painful feeling of _dread_ settling at the pit of his stomach.

“W-what do you mean what happened, Toru-san?” he asked, as huge grin plastered on his full lips, “We’ve been waiting for you to open your goddamned eyes for days! I thought we’ve lost you!”

“Wha— _Taka_? Is that you, Taka?” the guitarist asked, his hands suddenly touching Taka’s face, his hair, then his clothes, “W-what happened to you?!”

“What happened to _you_?!” he reiterated, panic bubbling within him, “why are you talking like that? Can’t you, can’t you remember us?”

Toru-san was silent for a moment, his eyes glancing at the two other persons beside Takahiro, “Ryota…? Since when did you grow a goatee?! And Tomoya?!! You’re so…so big now!”

_The fuck are you talking like a dad who left us when we’re young, huh?!_

Taka wanted to laugh, _oh no._ That’s not good. He’s supposed to be pale white and nervous and shit at these situations—he shouldn’t be laughing at all, but, but _—isn’t this funny?_

“Toru-niiiii,” Ryota whined, “Stop joking around. Look, Mori-chan’s giggling like a lunatic now!”

Toru pulled a “ _do-I-look-like-I’m-joking-to-you”_ face, making the bassist instantly shut up. “I’m—I’m gonna call the doctors, Tomo-kun,” he escaped, even before the drummer could nod.

“Hahahahahaha— _ack_!” Tomoya elbowed him.

“Stop laughing, Taka-chan,” he warned before smiling at the confused guitarist, “Hey, Toru, can you remember why you’re in the hospital?”

The frown on Toru’s face tells it all.

“Uhm,” he grimaced, hands fiddling with the sheets pooling on his lap, “I don’t know…I…Weren’t we drinking at that _Izakaya_ after our show in the live house…?”

“ ** _HAHAHAHAHAHAHA_**!!!” Taka’s laugh went a pitch higher after hearing that. Tomoya and Toru glanced at him in worry, especially when he have to cling onto the metal foot board of the bed to prevent himself from just falling over.

Live house?!

_Live house?!!_

_We haven’t played in the live house for years! Almost a decade now!_

**_“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”_ **

“Oh my god, somebody take Mori-chan out of here!” Ryota said to the horde of nurses following him beyond the threshold.

“Toru-ge,” Tomoya patiently said, because he’s the only one remaining with a sane mind in that room, “What year is it, for you…?”

Toru scrunch up his nose, obviously thinking hard before he unsurely answered, “…uh…2008…?”

* * *

Eleven years.

The head injury took _eleven years_ from Toru’s memories.

The best years of his life—the rebirth of their band, their success in Japan, their overseas tours—gone in a blink of an eye.

The doctors said that it’s probably temporary, that he’ll recall the lost memories piece by piece as time goes by—it was just because of a head trauma, a defense mechanism to shelter and lock away the memories for their safety. _Who or what the key is_ , no one knows. Neither the duration of the memory loss.

It’s just… _gone_.

Just like that.

Taka weakly giggled, his head resting on the cold, hard wall. Toru’s family had gone again, crying and assuring everyone that they could take care of their Toru in Osaka if he wants to go back to his hometown. Toru-san refused, though he’s glad to see his parents again—in his memories, it was so long since he left Osaka for Tokyo to join HEADS, and eventually form his own band—saying that he’s a grown up now and he still have matters to discuss with the members.

“You’re already a dad?! Of two?!” Toru’s voice filled the room as Tomoya and Ryota bombards him with adorable pictures of their kids, “What the hell?!”

Yeah, the _same_ reaction when Tomoya said that his wife is pregnant—again.

“Oh, oh, this is gonna be great!” Ryota grinned mischievously as he rubbed his hands like a complete villain, “Guess who my wife is, Toru-nii!”

“Ohhh!!!” Tomoya agreed and grinned like the motherfucker he is, obviously reading the youngest’s train of thoughts, “You’ll gonna shit your pants, Toru-ge!”

Taka bitterly smiled on the wall, his constant companion. He was left in the background—no, he decided to be _one_ with the wall so he could escape the reality of Toru-san losing his memories. He can’t face it head on, not when Toru-san couldn’t even remember any ounce of their years together, of their affection, of all those times they kissed and hugged.

_But isn’t this enough?_

He had wished for Toru-san to be alright…for him to wake up and be safe and healthy, even in the expense of their band.

Was Taka being _greedy_ and _selfish_ to have everything back?

“I don’t know…” Toru warily said, “Just tell me already, mou! I’m a sick person, goddammit!”

“Chill, Toru-nii, here, lemme show you her photo,” Ryota said and shoved his phone onto the guitarist’s face—which earned a childish look on his handsome face the first time he saw it earlier, _“wow, phone these days are so awesome! What happened to the flip-phones?!”_ —, “Look at my pretty wife!”

Toru-san stared at the photo… and stared more because he probably realized the similarities one way or another, “Is this…is this an edited photo of…?”

“No, no, she’s the real deal!” Ryota gleefully said, “She’s Avril’s younger sister, Michelle!”

“Oh no!” Toru tossed the phone onto the bed like a hot potato, “Oh no, stop kidding me, you shit!”

“ _Gahahahahahahaha_!!! Oh my god, Toru-ge’s face, oh my god!!!” Tomoya is suddenly rolling onto the floor, clutching his stomach as he cackled like a hyena, “OH MY GOOOOD!!!”

“W-were not joking _gahahahaha_ ,” Ryota insisted, a smug grin on his face, “Who would’ve thought that I, _of all people_ , would marry the sister of your childhood crush gahahahaha!!!”

Ryota sure is amused with his own joke, Taka inwardly muttered, closing his eyes as he listened to Toru’s shouts of disbelief. If the trio won’t stop bickering like that, the doctors would probably kick their asses out due to their noise or someshit.

“What happened in the world?!” Toru groaned as he leaned back on the pillows propped behind him, “Did I freak out, you know, when you first introduced us to her? How did you even met? And you’re married, with a kid?!! And Avril knows this?!! Knows that we’re…we’re _existing_?!”

Gaaaah, so many questions!

Taka finally snapped, the noise finally getting into his nerves.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, effectively gaining everyone’s attention to his forlorn form sticking onto the goddamned wall, “Long story short, we had a collaboration with Avril. She was on a hiatus back then but she allowed one and she brings her sister along and they got together at the last months of 2016 and married in what, January or February of 2017.”

“Wow,” was Toru’s eloquent reply, “a collaboration huh…?” he dreamily said before glancing at him once again, “Are you okay, Taka? You look a bit pale, tho?”

He sighed, massaging his temples, “I’m fine, just a bit tired, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tomoya nodded as he stood beside the bassist, the laughing fits finally ebbing away, “Taka-chan’s never left your side since you were rushed in the hospital, Toru-ge, so he’s really exhausted by this time.”

Toru’s eyes widened as he take that information. Taka watched as his eyes, so familiar yet so different, softened, his mouth twitching in a small smile.

“Thanks for that…but was that really _necessary_ …?”

WHAT.

“What,” he started, sounding a bit too hysterical that Tomoya glared at him for a moment, “Of course it is! You’re my— _my_ —,”

_Lover._

_Precious person in the world._

_World._

“—my _guitarist_ ,” he finally said, making Ryota and Tomoya winced in disappointment, “What, you don’t want me to stay and care for your pathetic ass anymore?”

He’s not ready, Taka inwardly thought, he’s still not ready to know about our relationship…not yet…not yet…

But…

_But when…?_

“No, no, jeez, calm the fuck down, alight? Who knew that you’ll still be bitchy after all these years, mou!” the guitarist said in one breath before calming down, “I mean…don’t I have a wife or girlfriend, or someone who would…you know…?”

Oh.

Oh.

_Of course this Toru-san is…_

Not yet…

Ha…haha…

Taka wanted to laugh again. Because he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think straight. What should he do? Should he reveal the truth to Toru-san, only to be painfully rejected? Or should he remain the same Takahiro, the old Takahiro who would hide behind the guitarist, who would rely on the rhythm guitarist’s words of encouragement to have the guts to look forward and just sing?

_What to do, what to do, Toru-san please tell me what to do—_

* * *

_Oh, fuck no._

Tomoya’s eyes zoomed towards the vocalist’s shaking form, watching as Taka’s eyes burned with determination. _Oh no, I don’t like that look._ Taka only looks so resolute like that either when he’s on stage or when he’s thinking of pranking Ryota or bullying him—so for Taka to look like that—

_Like he’s gonna give up and shit—_

No, no, Tomoya would not let that to happen.

This is not the shoujo manga he had read a few months ago during the tour where the protagonist would lie and pretend that she’s not the main lead’s lover just to spare him the guilt and not to force him to love her. This is not a work of fiction!

_Even if it’s not my place to say those things, I won’t stand in the back and watch Taka-chan to be a martyr!_

Even if this would be the abrupt end of this _story_ , _I’ll tell the truth!_

 _I won’t let him get hurt like this_ —especially—especially after all the years they’ve spent nurturing their affection to each other, especially after all the trials they’ve been through—especially because, after all those years, these stupid two finally realized their feelings for each other, so no—

_I won’t let that happen!_

* * *

Ryota warily glanced at the drummer. He knows that _look_ —Tomo-kun is planning to do something stupid that would earn him a bullying from Mori-chan. He wants to stop him, he wants to stop Mori-chan too, and most of all, he wants to stop Toru-nii from asking those stupid questions, mou!

Wife?

_Girlfriend?_

Why would he want them when Mori-chan is already here, when Mori-chan is already a gazillion times better than all of his previous relationships combined?!

And Mori-chan, Ryota peeked at the vocalist, oh, poor Mori-chan, dutifully waiting and watching for Toru-nii to wake up, only to be asked of those things…

* * *

Toru waited…and waited, as he stared at the vocalist’s face for a long period of time. He must’ve asked the wrong question, judging by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. He’s probably weak and bandaged from head injury, but he’s not that insensitive to notice that Ryota is glaring at Tomoya, and that Tomoya is glaring at Taka—Taka who is looking at him with fierce, dark chocolate eyes.

Which is something that pleases Toru, for unknown reason. Taka sure looks better than before, his jaws and chin more angular, the baby fats on his face were long gone. Although pale and clammy, his skin looks smoother and softer too, and his hair—dyed and blond—a far cry from the porcupine-like hairdo he was sporting the last time Toru had looked at him.

 _Which was 11 years ago_ , if everyone’s telling the truth.

In that span of time, they have achieved a lot of things, made albums that actually sell, sell out arenas—even had a dome tour!—and toured the world. Ryota and Tomoya had already started their own family as well—what else did he missed?

Surely, in that eleven years, he had gotten hitched in a relationship or two, right? He’s not young anymore, 29? 30 years old?

So, where is the girl?

He smiled, hopefully, at Takahiro, silently beckoning him to speak. He can still clearly remember how shy the vocalist is—how he needs constant reassurance and encouragement in the early days of their band when Taka would just sing and stare at the soles of his faded converse shoes.

“You…” the vocalist said, at long last, looking at him straight in the eyes, “You..”

Toru smiled, “Hai?”

* * *

_Am I really gonna say it? Am I really gonna spill it?_

_Right now?_

_But but—_

_Save him, save him from the pain and the shits—_

_No, no, you must tell him now—if not now, then when—_

_When he’s ready, obviously—_

_But what if he never gets ready, what if his memories won’t come back, are you prepared to be hurt all the time—_

_Truth, he deserves the truth. No manipulation, no lies._

_Always straight to the point, like how rock bands are._

_Tell him and spare yourself the pain. If he rejects you, then fine, at least you did your job._

_Don’t be a martyr, don’t decide for him, for both of your future—you’re not a god._

_You’re just…_

_You’re just—_

* * *

“Takahiro?”

Taka closed his eyes, his hands curling into fists on his sides, “ _YouandIlivetogether_.”

_?!?!!_

Toru could see Ryota and Tomoya face-palming at that rapidly spoken words. They seemed to understand whatever gibberish Taka is spouting.

“What…?” he asked, still confused. Taka looks like he’ll burst with his puffed out cheeks, reddening face and ears, “Can you speak, uh, slower this time—,”

“I said!” Taka inhaled, loudly, before he exhaled and looked at Toru’s face with the softest expression, “I said, we’re living _together_ , Toru-san.”

“Oh,” Toru-san nodded, so what’s the big deal? Why is everyone still looking like they’re watching a suspense movie, “Like a dorm house or something?”

“No, Toru-ge, you live in different units but in the _same_ apartment building,” Taka sharply glared at the drummer when Tomoya suddenly spoke—perhaps a bit too affected by the thick, suffocating tension inside the room—, “What he _actually_ wants to say is that—,”

“Tomoya, shut up, _shut the fuck up_!” Taka screeched, his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s planning to strangle the not-so-petite-anymore drummer, “Let me say it!”

Much to his horror, the drummer had the guts to act so pissed at the vocalist—which is something that Toru would never thought of happening— _well, at least his 2008-self would_ —, “Then say it! Say it loud and clear, Takahiro, because if you won’t then I would!” he said, the ultimatum hanging in the air.

_What are they talking about?!!_

_Why is everyone talking like I’m not here?!_

Taka is raging, Toru noticed. He’s heaving, his eyes sharp and glowering. For someone as small as Takahiro, he sure could muster a scary expression like that.

“T-tomo-kun!” Ryota whimpered, a hand clutching on the drummer’s loose sleeves, “Shouldn’t we…shouldn’t we leave those matters between the two of them—,”

“Then what?” Tomoya spat, which is really starting to scare Toru now, since when the drummer has the balls to act like that, “Watch Takahiro makes the sacrifice? Watch Takahiro get hurt?”—

“Shut up, _shut up!”_

“Watch Takahiro take all the blame, watch him fall down by himself because he thinks that he’s in the right position to decide _what to and what not to tell_ Toru-ge here?!”

“I’m not gonna lie to him!” Taka shrieked, his voice hurt and desperate, and Toru had this surge of protectiveness welling within him.

Taka looks so small, so _frightened_ that Toru just wants to…to…

_What?_

A blank.

“Then why are you stalling?!” Tomoya screamed back, “Just tell him and be over with it! You think you can hide this thing for him, but the _world won’t be by your side_ , Takahiro,” Tomoya warned, making the vocalist stiffened, “you can’t bribe everyone who knows about it , you can’t just ask them to lie for your sake—,”

“I’m not gonna lie—,”

“HOLD IT, _HOLD_ IT!” Toru finally yelled, his head starting to painfully throb behind his eyes. Everyone screaming is not really helping his case, especially with a very hysterical Takahiro and a threatening Tomoya arguing like Toru is not in the same room as them. “Stop screaming at each other, _mou_! There’s a sick person here, in case you forgot!”

He saw Taka glaring at Tomoya.

“Taka,” he called out, the vocalist flinching at the mention of his name, “What are you talking about? What’s Tomoya talking about?”

“I—,” Taka’s eyes started to wander around—a nervous habit of his whenever he’s cornered, something that seems to not changed with time—until he noticed that Tomoya is also glaring at him, “I just want to say that…”

“That..?”

“P-please don’t be mad and don’t think like…like I’m _expecting_ something from you, I just…I just want you to hear this from…from me and not from anybody else, okay?” he squeaked in a small, terrified voice, “so… so please don’t laugh coz I’m not joking…”

Toru nodded, starting to feel bad for forcing Taka to spit whatever he wants to say.

“Just spill it, Taka-chan,” Tomoya urged.

“I’m on it!” the vocalist snapped before sighing, once, twice, thrice, before looking at Toru again, “I’m…Toru-san…you and I…are…”

“…are…?” Toru held his breathe for some unknown reason. He’s having this feeling that whatever Taka would say would change something so he needs to be attentive and shit because—

“You and I are _together_.”

…

…

…

There was a complete silence after that. So quiet that he could hear the nurses chattering as the passed by on the corridor beyond the door. For one moment, he thought that maybe he’s just dreaming—or maybe the tension had made him imagine those words, but then he noticed that Takahiro is still looking down at him with the same eyes—

Determined.

Hoping.

 _Scared_.

The seconds ticked by and Toru couldn’t still grasp the right word to respond to Takahiro’s.

“T-together?” he choked out, his mind racing to formulate the right thoughts attributed to that word.

“Y-yeah,” Takahiro nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “For almost a year now—but! But we’ve already started having feelings with each other years ago so this isn’t something… _new_ …” almond-shaped eyes looked down on the floor in defeat, the sight of Taka’s hunched form made Toru’s heart squeeze painfully, “I’m telling the truth…we’re… _together_ …”

…

…

…

Toru wanted to plunge his hands into his brain to wrack it for any evidences—dates, kisses, hugs, birthday presents—anything that would prove what Taka is saying as the truth. What does this means?! Maybe, maybe he’s just doing a prank—and that—that Tomoya and Ryota were forced to be accessories to make it more believable?!

What if—

What if—

“ _Together_?!” he asked once again, a slight edge on his voice.

“Yeah, together,” Taka said through clenched teeth, “Dating, going out, a couple, _lovers_ ,” he hissed, obviously not liking the look of skepticism on Toru’s face, “I’m not a _thesaurus_ but if you want, I can look up more words that means the same—,”

Now, Toru wants to laugh—not sure if it’s because of Taka’s revelation or because of Taka’s never-changing sharp-tongue—

“Taka-chan is telling the truth, Toru-ge,” Tomoya said, stepping in front of the vocalist, as if he could protect Takahiro from…from what? Isn’t he the one getting ganged upon here? “We’ve witnessed it all, annoying as they seems—,”

“Hey!”

“—but we know, I know how deeply you care for each other so don’t—,”

_Don’t make fun of him._

_Don’t laugh at him._

_Don’t ruin this._

_Don’t call him a liar._

_Don’t hurt him._

Tomoya doesn’t have to say anything, and yet, just by glancing at those eyes, Toru knows—Toru understands the thoughts he wants to convey. A choked sound came from the back of his throat as he suddenly stopped himself from just…busting into a laughing fit.

_But what about him?_

Why is everyone so keen on making fun of him?

Were they laughing in their minds, cooing at how Toru’s so easy to manipulate with mere words and a couple of emotional screaming?

Toru suddenly feels tired. He wants to lay down and sleep and maybe he’ll wake up either on his 2008 body or with his memories back. Either is better than being in here, being at the center of everyone’s attention.

“I…” he wearily said, bunching the sheets into his fist, “I don’t know what you want me to say but I’m…” a helpless smile made its way on his lips as he looked up at Takahiro’s hopeful face—ah, how he never wants to hurt him the way those people, the way his family had hurt him—, “ _Homo-janai. Homo-janai…”_

“Oh,” Taka exhaled, “Oh…”

And then, to Toru’s horror, Taka’s face twisted in pain, in betrayal, like ha had lost all hope—tears came unbidden, freely flowing onto his flushed cheeks as he tried—desperately and shakingly tried—to wipe them using the sleeves of his sweater, “I-I _see_ —It’s—It’s _alright_ ,” he heaved, crying and leaning when Tomoya hugged him all while looking at him with a lost expression on his face.

Toru’s heart feels like it’s being sliced into thousands of pieces, getting peeled, layer by layer as he listened to the hart-wrenching sounds of Taka’s sobbing. He…he’s not joking, is he? Taka is not an actor—he can’t cry on a whim, just like that— _he can’t—_

“Taka…” he mumbled out, his voice pained and guilt-ridden but Takahiro just shook his head, still trying to wipe his messy face. He can see Ryota pale and unmoving on his spot, not sure if he would calm their vocalist or would side with his innocent Toru-nii, “Takahiro…”

“N-no, no,” he shook his head before looking down at him with tear-streaked face, “I’m not…I’m not asking you…you _hic_! To _automatically_ …l-like me back or—or something—,”

A fresh set of tears came rolling down on his cheeks, and Toru wants nothing but to collect the smaller man in his arms and cuddle him, wipe those tears away for him, protect him—but from what, from who—he doesn’t know.

_He doesn’t know anymore._

“—I just don’t wanna leave you…you in the dark about…about…u- _us_!”

And that was the last straw—Toru may not be a homo, but he’s also not made of stone—immune against Taka’s sniveling—so he just opened his arms, “Come here, Taka—Come— _oof_!”

And even before he could finish his words, the vocalist came barreling towards him, his arms instantly wrapping themselves around Toru’s waist—his face crushing onto his chest like he belongs there—and Toru allows him.

He’s a _friend_ after all.

“ _Shhh_ , _shhh_ , I’m sorry, I—,” his hand, the one free from the dextrose hose patted his head, ruffled his hair until he’s sliding it over the vocalist’s back, up and down, in a soothing manner, “I really don’t know, I’m sorry—,”

“No, no, no,” Taka chanted as he cried even more, burying his face and clinging to him—afraid that Toru would just push him away or something, “You’re well—you’re awake—and that’s—that’s alright—can’t ask for m-more—,”

Toru helplessly glanced around the room. Tomoya and Ryota are already walking towards the room, the shitheads leaving him in this situation, mou! But what can they do? What can Toru do to stop Taka from hurting, from crying like this?

“D-don’t cry,” he said, unconsciously planting soft kisses on the messy blond hair, “Shhhh, Taka, we’ll get through this, alright? Don’t cry…don’t give up…”

 _Don’t give up on us_ , he wanted to say, _I’ll try harder to remember, don’t worry._

“I’ll do everything to bring those memories back, okay?” he said as he squeezed the warm, soft body within his arms, wondering what they have done in their past lives to incur the wrath of fate like this, “We’ll get through this, I promise…”

_I promise._

**Author's Note:**

> How was that gahahahaha I'm planning to expand this into a few more chapters but that might take another six years or what, so I just dumped this in the art of not finishing shits. You know the drill. Please lemme know what you think about this tho~
> 
> Anyway, how are you doing these days? Are your country doing enough shit to prevent the further spread of the virus?? Please be safe and always wash your hands!
> 
> Thanks for reading~


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